Silver Bells
by athousandsmiles
Summary: He looks so vulnerable, so absolutely petrified as he looks into her eyes and then around the room and back again, that she knows he means it and her heart is sputtering like a motor that won't quite start. House/Cameron romance.


**This is a season 6 AU, Secret Santa fic for hilandmum, who wanted:**

**- a chance meeting between House and Cameron**

**- silver bells**

**-Christmas and Hanukkah time in the city (you can throw in Kwanzaa too)**

**And didn't want:**

**- any of the newest ducklings**

**- Cuddy showing up in any way, shape or form**

**- the kinds of inconsistencies in timeline or canon that the writers thought was OK**

As she steps out of the studio door onto the sidewalk of the busy city, she stumbles and nearly topples over the gentleman passing by at that very moment.

Except he's no gentleman.

"House?"

He grabs her elbow and somehow rights them both before they end up in a damp puddle of dirty slush. Looking past her through the windows of the building she's just exited, he says, "Belly dancing, Cameron? Is that how you've kept that stunning little ass so... stunning?"

She's off-kilter in more ways than one, having not expected to find House here of all places. "Wh..what are you doing here?"

"Well I was going to do some holiday shopping, but now that I know you're taking belly dancing classes, I'd like a demonstration."

She rolls her eyes and tells herself she should've known better than to expect a straight answer from House, even if she hasn't seen him in months. Not since her divorce papers were signed, in fact. "You? Holiday shopping?"

"Of course. Hanukkah gift for Wilson, Kwanzaa gift for Foreman, you know how it is? I'm all about the giving."

"Right," she says with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Hanukkah ended two weeks ago and Foreman doesn't celebrate Kwanzaa."

"Well then, I guess that means I'm free for dinner. Your treat." He tilts his head toward a quaint little Italian place further down the block and starts limping in that direction as if he knows she'll follow.

And she does, tripping after him at first to catch up and mumbling apologies to the people she has to dodge in the process. It's two days before Christmas and New York City is abuzz with holiday madness. There's a nip in the air, but not enough to keep the recently fallen snow from melting into a gray slop that splashes up onto the legs of everyone trudging through it. Just about every single window is aglow with some sort of holiday decoration, stars and lights and snowmen and Santas, and in the distance, the Empire State Building is lit up in red and green. Somehow it all seems even more beautiful to Cameron as she falls into stride with her very own ghost of Christmas past.

He says nothing until they're safely ensconced in a cozy booth in the restaurant, shrugging off their coats.

"Thought you were in Chicago," he says, plucking the menu from off the table where the waiter left it.

She shakes her head, causing the little silver bells that dangle from her ears to sway back and forth. "I only went back to visit my brother. I got a job offer here at St. Nicholas Children's Hospital. Thought you'd know that."

"I've been a little out of the loop," he confesses, his gaze captured by her earrings. "No one wants to gossip with me anymore since I bugged the nurses lounge last year. Figures you'd take a job at a children's hospital named after Santa Claus."

Unable to help herself, she laughs. He's still the same old House, but there's something a little different that she can't quite pinpoint yet. The waiter arrives with an offering of the house wine for each of them, which they accept. It's not great, but it's not bad either, Cameron thinks as it warms her insides. They order their meals, House the puttanesca and she the ravioli. It's not planned, and she almost forgets for a minute until the wave of deja vu hits her.

Seems it hits him at the same time, because he says, "Nice earrings."

She laughs again and replies, "They're not my mothers. They're mine."

"Very holiday appropriate," he jokes, glancing down at her feet as if he's about to compliment her shoes.

"What are you doing here, really?" she says, cutting him off before he decides to recreate their awkward date in its entirety.

His eyes meet hers and he answers, truthfully, without coloring it with a joke or a bit of innuendo. "I've got a new therapist here. He's helping me."

She couldn't be more shocked if he'd told her he was here for gender reassignment surgery. It's only when he reaches forward and pushes at her chin that she realizes her mouth is hanging open.

"I know, it's a shock. Even to me. But then, I'm all about the shock factor."

"No," she says, fumbling for the right words. "It's good. I'm glad."

"It's your fault, you know," he says, leaning back as the waiter puts their food in front of them.

She's sure her mouth is hanging open again, and she has no idea how to respond.

"You said there was no way back for me. I had to prove you wrong."

"I don't know what to say," she murmurs, swallowing down a lump in her throat. "That day... I was just upset. But I never really believed that you didn't care in some small way about our patients. Or... or that you were responsible for breaking up my marriage."

"But it's what I wanted," he confesses, "even if I didn't fully realize it. What you said... you weren't entirely wrong. People do matter. I learned that at Mayfield, but forgot it again the moment I got my medical license back. I needed that reminder."

He's suddenly looks a little blurry as she blinks back the tears in her eyes. It's been a very long time since she believed that anything she said to him would ever really sink in. It feels like a Christmas miracle, but there's one question still nagging at her. "Why?"

"Why what?" he asks, pausing with his fork sticking straight up from his plate.

"Why did you want to break up my marriage?"

"Because I wanted you for myself," he states, as casually as if he were talking about the weather. "Still do, in fact."

At that she has to glance around looking for the camera crew to pop out from the back room and tell her she's been punk'd or something.

"I'm serious, Cameron. My therapist told me I need to start practicing honesty about my feelings, first with myself and then with others. So here I am. What do you say?"

He looks so vulnerable, so absolutely petrified as he looks into her eyes and then around the room and back again, that she knows he means it and her heart is sputtering like a motor that won't quite start.

"Okay," she manages to answer, swiping at the tears that have begun to slide down her cheeks.

"Okay," he repeats, reaching across the table and brushing at them with his thumbs, his touch a gentle caress that she can't help but lean into. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me another chance. I've screwed up in a million different ways. I know that. But I don't know anyone else who would... forgive me as many times as you have. I don't take that for granted." He pauses then, his mouth twisted in a self-deprecating little grimace, and then continues with, "This is more of that honesty stuff. I'm new at it."

She takes his hand in hers, smiling as she feels his rough dry skin beneath her fingertips. "It'll probably get easier with time."

"God, I hope so," he replies, smiling back at her. He gently slides his hand out of hers long enough to pull some money from his wallet and drop it on the table, then takes her hand again as they scoot out of the booth. "Let's get out of here. I believe someone promised me a belly dancing demonstration."

Her laughter carries out into the street, while the bells of a local cathedral echo in the distance. Christmas has never seemed merrier.


End file.
